


Concord

by ladyofrosefire



Series: The Fjord Trash Fjic Quarantine Zone [3]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: BDSM, Cunnilingus, F/M, Fellatio, Gags, M/M, Multi, Nipple Clamps, Nipple Play, Objectification, Orgasm Delay/Denial, PWP, Rope Bondage, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-04
Updated: 2019-01-04
Packaged: 2019-10-03 22:25:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17292575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyofrosefire/pseuds/ladyofrosefire
Summary: Set very shortly after "Manifest"The Gentleman does know how to share, with the right people. And Ophelia is definitely the right sort of person.More Fjord fjilth.





	Concord

**Author's Note:**

> Again, we're ignoring any possible relations that are not 100% confirmed for the sake of my poor brain.   
> This is probably the end of the series. I'm sure I'll have other Fjord fjilth eventually, just... probably not Gentleman related.

Fjord could hear snatches of discussion outside the door. “New pet” and “...he sure?” and “Without a doubt” and “easy to train” and “eager to please.” Among other things. 

“And as you can clearly see,” the Gentleman continues opening the door to let Ophelia into the room, “he prefers having his mouth full.” 

Fjord makes a muffled noise around the gag in his mouth. 

Ophelia walks in, boot heels clicking on the hardwood floor. She wears the same coat he had seen her in last, its cut emphasizing the curves of her hips and breasts and the dramatic dip of her waist. He tries to follow her movement as she walks around him. She leans down to grab his jaw. Her nails dig into his chin. 

“ _ No _ ,” Ophelia tuts, “face forward.”

He tries to say ‘yes, ma’am,’ but only manages a distorted mumble. The gag is soft, a piece of fabric with a fat knot in the middle that holds his tongue down and muffles any sound he makes. The ropes holding his wrists together behind his back are soft, too, and almost comforting. 

The way Ophelia considers him is not. It raises a hot prickle on his skin between his shoulder blades and across his bare chest. He starts to shift on his knees and then catches the Gentleman’s look, the arch of one black brow. Fjord goes as still as he can, although he still shivers as her long nails scrape across his back, over where that explosion had ripped into him. 

“He’s very beautiful, my love. Are you sure you want to share him?”

“I can stand it for the night…” he drawls and holds out a hand to her. “And I owe him a treat after sending him away for so long.”

Ophelia takes it. She steps over to him and leans in to nip at his mouth. Then she turns her back on him. “Help me out of my coat.” 

He chuckles and presses up against her back. He grinds his hips against the curve of her ass. His hands cup her breasts. Then he starts on the brass buttons of her coat. It falls away, leaving her in tight fitted pants and a corset wrapped around her ribs over her white blouse. Fjord averts his eyes when the Gentleman pulls away her cravat. With the corset, it’s hard not to stare at her breasts. 

The sound of her low laugh raises a brilliant flush on Fjord’s cheeks. “How precious. I hope you won’t be too shy to do as you’re told.”

Fjord shakes his head, unable to protest with the gag in his mouth.

The Gentleman chuckles. Then he steps away from Ophelia and sinks to one knee beside Fjord. “How about we unwrap you and give her something else to play with?”

Fjord nods and then lifts up onto his knees. The Gentleman unlaces Fjord’s pants and tugs them off his hips. It’s impossible to get them off without a bit of awkward shuffling, but the Gentleman holds him steady. 

“There’s something else you should see, dear. Bend over, pet,” the Gentleman murmurs. 

At least this position lets him hide his face. He can’t help but whimper into the gag as Ophelia circles him again. 

“Fjord and I have an arrangement,” the Gentleman explains, rubbing a finger around the base of the plug, “if he wants to come to me and be mine, he wears this.”

“More subtle than a collar,” she observes. Then she laughs, “Poor dear. He’s going to go to pieces.” Ophelia rubs a hand up and down his back. “I’ve been told you like ropes. How about we give some to you.”

He moans softly and nods, cheek rubbing against the floor. 

They pull him back up onto his knees. Then Ophelia turns and collects the ropes from the desk. These look like the ones from the box under the Gentleman’s bed, silk, strong, and an even off-white. She passes a length to the Gentleman and then begins working hers in careful loops and knots around his chest. It forms a web that holds him securely from shoulders to waist. The Gentleman attaches his rope to the cuffs around Fjord’s wrists and works his way up his arms to the shoulders. When he’s finished, Fjord cannot lift his arms away from his back. 

“Pinching?”

Fjord shakes his head.

“Flex your hands. Good.”

The ropes hold him firmly, almost hugging him. His breathing steadies, although it’s still too rapid to be calm. Ophelia collects a vial from the desk. Then she shoos the Gentleman away and settles down on one knee so she can look Fjord in the eyes. She spills some of the oil over her hand, reaches out, and wraps her long fingers around Fjord’s cock. He makes a garbled noise into the gag as she begins to stroke. She draws him fully hard quickly enough that his head spins. 

“You’re being very nice to him.”

“That depends entirely on your definition of nice, my love,” she replies at the same time she rubs her thumb beneath the head of Fjord’s cock, ignoring his muffled groan. “Would you bring me the thin rope?”

“Oh, I see. Consider my comment withdrawn.”

He passes her the rope— a length little more than a string— and then reaches for the high neck of her blouse. “May I?”

Ophelia sighs, but Fjord can see a smile at the edges of her mouth. “If you must.” 

He unbuttons her blouse for her, drawing his teal fingers over Ophelia’s slate grey skin. They leave a bead of water in their wake that rolls down between her breasts. Fjord moans again. 

“Do you want to taste?” She asks. 

Flushing dark, he nods. 

The Gentleman laughs. “Patience, pet. Be very, very good. And hold still.”

Fjord does, but he still lets out a yelp as Ophelia loops the thin cord behind his balls and around his cock. She holds his gaze as she draws it tight. 

“Shh,  _ Liebchen _ , we can’t have this controlling you.”

He hesitates a moment before nodding. 

She brings the cord back down and around. By the third pass, Fjord is whimpering into the gag, although he has no idea  _ why _ . It doesn’t hurt. It’s  _ snug _ , but it doesn’t hurt. He tries to watch what Ophelia’s doing only for the Gentleman to catch him by the jaw and pull his head up. So he feels rather than sees it when Ophelia brings both ends of the cord up in a line up the center of his balls. He thinks she might have twisted the rope, but he’s too busy going wide-eyed to be sure. The rope goes around his cock a few more times from there, forming tight around his base. She finishes it with what is without a doubt a bow. 

“Are you going to put anything else on him?”

“That depends,” she turns and kisses him, licking into his mouth and biting at his lip again before she pulls back. It doesn’t draw blood, this time, but the Gentleman still winces. “Could you go without having clamps on him while you fuck him?”

Fjord bites back another groan. 

“Mmm…” the Gentleman is eyeing him now, gaze trailing down to his chest, “promise to make him howl?”

“I thought I’d give you that honor.” 

Ophelia stands. Together, she and the Gentleman take hold of Fjord’s ropes and maneuver him onto the bed with a pillow under his arms. The position forces him to arch his back. Ophelia goes to the table and picks up something that jingles faintly. She palms it to the Gentleman, who tucks it into a pocket. Then he reaches out and turns Fjord’s head with a hand on his jaw. Ophelia stands perfectly within his line of sight as she pulls her blouse from beneath her corset, cupping her breasts for a moment before sitting to remove her boots. The Gentleman’s other hand goes to toying at Fjord’s nipples. 

“Keep watching,” he instructs. 

Ophelia looks right at him as she stands, unbuttons her trousers, and pushes them down her long legs. She walks to the bed, her gaze on the Gentleman. He releases Fjord to wrap his arms around her, drawing her into his lap. She grinds down against him as they kiss, her nails raking through his long hair and down his back. A moment later, Fjord hears the sound of tearing fabric. The Gentleman’s shirt goes slack. 

He laughs as he pulls it off, tossing the scraps off the end of the bed. Then he slides her panties down her legs. She slips out of them, stands, and walks up until she’s parallel with Fjord’s head. She runs her fingers through his hair, nails scraping along his scalp, as the Gentleman pulls the jingling thing out his pocket. Fjord is not surprised to see that it’s a pair of clamps like the ones he had used last time. These are connected by a chain. 

He whines as the first one goes on. 

“Can you snap with your hands tied?” Ophelia asks.

Fjord demonstrates. The pillow keeps his weight off of his hands so he can manage a sound. 

“Good. Do that if it hurts too much.” Ophelia bends and kisses the gag. “Otherwise, we will take them off as soon as I’ve come.”

She settles herself over his face. Then she reaches down and unties the gag. She pulls it out and sets the cloth aside. Fjord takes a moment to work his jaw loose. 

“I, um,” he starts, “haven’t really had… opportunity to do this. But I’m happy to learn.”

“I’m very glad to hear that,” she murmurs. Ophelia runs a sharp nail along his jaw and then slips her fingers between her legs. “Look, and pay attention.” Then she spreads her labia with two fingers, “Keep your tongue soft. Touch here,” she taps her clit, “but not too much. And be curious. Ready?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Then he stretches up and opens his mouth. She tastes much like how she smells, musky and a bit like salt and iodine. He does his best to follow her instructions, frowning with concentration as he begins to lick at her. A moment later, he yelps as the Gentleman gives the chain between the clamps a sharp tug. Ophelia digs her nails into his scalp. The meaning is clear enough. He gets back to work. Even as she floods his senses, he cannot focus on her entirely, not with the steady throbbing in his nipples. The moment after each tug is almost relief by comparison. Fjord whines, his lips sealed around Ophelia’s clit, and she moans. So the Gentleman gives the clamps another yank. She grinds down against his face while the Gentleman plays with the clamps. Every time his pace slackens or his focus wavers, the Gentleman yanks harder or twist on the clamps until Fjord refocuses. It is a relief when he feels her thighs begin to tremble. 

Ophelia comes over his face, her thighs clamping tight around his ears. He licks at her through it. She climbs off, and the Gentleman gives a final hard tug before taking the clamps off. Fjord whines. He draws a few hard, gasping breaths. His cock throbs under the rope.

“Don’t worry, pet. We’ll give them back to you.”

He considers protesting, but he is not sure he wants to. “…Yes, sir.”

“Good boy,” Ophelia croons, combing her fingers through his hair. Then she looks at the Gentleman. “Should I gag him again, or did you want his mouth?”

“For a little while.” 

Together, they turn Fjord onto his side. Ophelia opens the knots holding his wrists with a few quick tugs. The Gentleman unlaces his pants as she massages Fjord’s arms. He’s mostly hard, the blue of his skin warming, and, despite the fact that his jaw aches slightly, Fjord’s mouth starts to water. 

“Please, sir, may I?” he rasps. 

“So polite…” Ophelia gets a grip on his hair, “my darling?”

“Of course,” he replies, leaning back against the headboard. 

Fjord opens his mouth and Ophelia pushes him down onto the Gentleman’s cock. He’s had his head steered before, but it’s different when it’s not being done by the person fucking his mouth. He feels even more like a tool, a warm, wet place for the Gentleman to stick his cock. He moans, low and desperate, and does his best to suck and to move his tongue and hollow his cheeks. He’s rewarded with a low groan and Ophelia’s other hand rubbing up and down his back. He whines when she pulls him off. The Gentleman’s cock had only just begun to leak onto his tongue. 

“Hush,  _ Liebchen _ ,” she orders, fitting the gag back into his mouth. 

The Gentleman smiles, giving himself a couple of lazy strokes. “On your back, pet. Hands to the headboard. Ophelia, you should see the faces he makes when he’s getting fucked.”

Fjord does as he’s ordered, blushing from his hairline down his chest. Ophelia laughs softly as she ties his hands to the headboard. The Gentleman fetches a bottle of oil and then moves down between his legs. He rubs some of it around the base of the plug until he can ease a finger in alongside it. Then he tugs it out. Fjord jerks a little, gasps and pulls against the ropes holding his arms. He relaxes into it as the Gentleman slips slick fingers into him. 

“You could ride him, you know.”

“I know,” she bends and bites at Fjord’s shoulder, “but I want to take this slow.”

Fjord closes his eyes and lets out a soft whine. He’s ready; he can feel it, needy, empty. His hips buck, and Ophelia bites him again,  _ hard _ . He goes still for her. 

“Take him slowly, my love,” she murmurs, rubbing her thumb back and forth over the bite mark. 

“For you, of course.”

He trembles as the Gentleman pushes into him, his cock hot and thick. Fjord’s eyes almost roll up in his head, and he moans into the gag. 

“That’s it. What a good pet…” 

He begins to rock his hips slowly enough that Fjord can feel every inch of the drag. His back arches until Ophelia pushes him down again. She pinches at his nipples, the bright curve of her smile showing her pointed teeth. The Gentleman hooks an arm beneath one of Fjord’s legs and pushes it up. The change in angle lets him push deeper, past where the plug had held him open. It also makes his cock rub over his prostate. Fjord bites down on the gag, but it’s not enough to muffle the sound he makes. 

“The first time,” he pants, pushing in again, “I ate him out until he couldn’t speak before I gave it to him.”

“Poor thing…” Ophelia laughs. “He’s so impatient. Look at this.”

She reaches down and curls her hand around his cock. It throbs under the rope. She gives it a few slow strokes. Then she slides her hand down farther to cup his balls. Fjord jerks against the ropes. Ophelia squeezes—  _ gently _ — but with enough of a threat to make him shudder. 

And the Gentleman is still thrusting in him, faster now. Driving against his prostate. 

“Harder, love?” she smiles, all red lips and sharp teeth. 

It’s fucking perfect. Fjord arches into it, tosses his head back and can’t keep his eyes open. He tries to beg ‘please let me come’ through the gag, but all that comes out is a muffled, garbled mess. 

“Shh, pet,” 

The Gentleman gives one nipple a pinch. They’re still sore from the clamps and Fjord jerks.

“Wait,” Ophelia tells Fjord, leaning down to bite again. Then she looks up at the Gentleman. “He’s here for you to use, so  _ use _ him.”

He laughs. A moment later, Fjord finds himself bent up. He can only give himself over to it. Above him, the Gentleman groans, tossing his head back. Ophelia catches his hair and then leans in to kiss him, deep and hungry. She bites at his mouth. This time, she doesn’t leave him bleeding, but the Gentleman still hisses in pain. A moment later, he spills into Fjord.

They put the plug back after he pulls out. Fjord whimpers into the gag. 

“Sensitive?”

“Mhm.”

“Just how we like you. He’s all yours, Ophelia.”

The Gentleman sprawls out next to Fjord on the bed and reaches out to run his fingers through Fjord’s hair. Ophelia sits up, her movements languid. Then she settles astride his hips. She does not take off the ropes before she takes his cock in her hand and guides it inside of her. He almost comes as soon as she slides down. The rope is enough to remind him to hold back, but only just. 

Being inside her is both familiar and not. He has been with other people. One other person, before… all of this. Not a tiefling, though, and Ophelia is  _ searing _ in a way that makes him want to push as deep as he can and stay there. He bucks beneath her, groaning into the gag.

She laughs, running sharp nails down his chest. “ _ Liebchen _ , do you need pain to do as you’re told?”

Fjord nods even as he tries to bring his hands down and cover his nipples. He makes incoherent noises while the Gentleman reapplies the clamps and tightens them until Fjord tries to curl in on himself. The whole while, she just  _ waits _ . Then Ophelia takes the chain between her thumb and forefinger as she begins to move. When she lifts it, Fjord whimpers. Her smile is sharp and makes his stomach flip. 

“So pretty…” she tugs a little on the chain, “and you wear it so well. Too pretty to be kept all for one person.”

“Ophelia…” 

“Hush, my love.” 

She rides Fjord harder. It’s greedy and demanding and so fucking good. He wants to tell her as much. His mouth shapes the words, but even without the gag, they’re beyond him. He’s so close. The pain of the clamps doesn’t help anymore, but he holds on. His breath comes hard and fast, rushing through his nose. Then Ophelia’s hand finds his throat. She doesn’t press down, not hard. Just  _ enough _ . His hips snap upward, driving into her. The sound Ophelia lets out is equal parts surprised and pleased. So he does it again, and then again. She comes with a low groan, squeezing tight around his cock. 

He’s not quite sure how he manages not to follow her. 

“ _ Good _ boy,” she gasps. “You may come.”

Then she removes the clamps. 

Fjord is— pretty sure he screamed. His throat feels like he screamed. He came like he’d been kicked in the head and his vision is still blurred from it. The aftershocks make him twitch and shudder. Ophelia slides off of him, and he lets out another noise. 

She starts with the thin rope. He flinches the first time her fingers brush against his over-sensitive skin. After that, he manages to hold still while she unwinds it. The Gentleman unties his wrists from the headboard. Gently, he rubs them, soothing the marks from where he tugged against the ropes. 

“Very well done, darling pet.” The Gentleman leans down and kisses the corner of his mouth. “Stay there.”

Then he turns and catches Ophelia in his arms. Fjord watches him bear her down onto the bed, watches him slide down between her thighs, sees her arch and hears her bite back a shriek as he begins to lap at her cunt. She drags at his hair, hers fanning out around her as her head turns back and forth. Her hips rise. She grinds against his face with much less consideration than she had given Fjord. She comes again with a delighted scream and rakes her nails up the Gentleman’s back hard enough that she leaves dashed red lines against his teal skin. 

For a minute afterward, they lie in a tangle, the sounds of slowing breathing the only sounds in the room. Then Ophelia sits up and, tugging open the fastenings on her corset. She drops it over the side of the bed. 

“My love, see to your toy. He’s filthy.” The kiss she gives Fjord softens the sting of her words. As does the hand in his hair. “You were lovely. Thank you.” 

He opens his mouth, pauses, and then pulls the gag out of it. “Thank you, ma’am.”

He looks over in time to see the Gentleman wave a globe of water out of a pitcher. It floats across the room. Fjord watches with a small smile. The water curls around his wrist at first and rolls up to his shoulder. It’s lukewarm but still cooler than his skin and the sweat that slicks it. It’s an odd way to get clean. Odd and delightful. 

“Well, damn. That’s a neat trick.” He stretches, then yelps as the plug inside of him shifts. “Fuckin’ hell.”

“Do you need it out?” Ophelia asks. She reaches out to rub a hand up and down his arm. 

“No, ma’am.”

The Gentleman palms his hip. “Well done.”

Fjord smiles. When Ophelia draws him to her, he goes and rests his head on her lap, lets her run her sharp nails through his hair as his mind clears. The Gentleman lounges toward the end of the bed. He toys with the end of Ophelia’s tail. Once, she taps it against his cheek. 

Noise from downstairs filters up to them. Fjord shifts, his awareness sharpening. Then he sits up. He’s recovered enough that the movement of the plug is no longer painful. 

“I’m gonna— be on my way. Unless you wanted anything else.” 

The Gentleman’s gaze rakes over him. “So many things. But… I think I’m satisfied for now. And you and I can always keep each other busy, can’t we, love?”

Ophelia stretches out on the mattress. “If you’re very polite. Thank you, Fjord, for a lovely evening. And if you ever want something other than what he offers, let me know.” The points of her teeth are very, very white against the brilliant red of her lips. “I’ll always have a place for you.”

“Ophelia!” the Gentleman protests. But he’s laughing. He rakes a hand through his hair. “Off you go. Oh— the bottle on the desk. Take it back to your friends with my thanks.”

He nods. Fjord gets up slowly. He lets them watch as he dresses. His shirt rubs against his nipples, and he flinches. Ophelia’s low laugh reaches him. Fjord chuckles. Then he starts strapping on his armor. He pauses after pulling on his boots. 

“Um—”

“Oh, come here,  _ Liebchen, _ ” Ophelia beckons. 

She draws him in by the neck of his shirt for a kiss, biting at his lower lip before letting the Gentleman take him and kiss him as well. 

Fjord leaves with his mouth tingling and a fresh bloom of want curling around his spine.


End file.
